


E Nomine Patres Et Filii Et Spiritus Sancti

by phantomschmerz



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:48:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomschmerz/pseuds/phantomschmerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone want's to leave his past behind. Is he able to do so?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pater noster qui es in caelis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eriathalia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriathalia/gifts).



> This story was originally written in German and later translated. So I'm sorry for some mistakes, that may occur.

## pater noster qui es in caelis

### Our Father who art in heaven

###  The ground was muddy. It didn't disturb the young man, his shoes were covered in mud. He walked into the saloon. Even there the ambience was dull as if a thunderstorm would befall the place this very minute. It was because of the war. Everyone knew that it would happen; only nobody could say when. He sat down at one of the free tables and stayed there.  
  
The innkeeper knew him even though he wasn't very often in town. But nobody forgot his visits. Shortly after a plate with steaming beans and a cheap bottle of wine was served. He was a trapper. A damn good trapper.  
  
After the Hudson's Bay Company lost its monopoly the last year, his business was flourishing. Furthermore, this was the only work he could do in the Northern states. Here meant in this case the Washington territory bordering Oregon, West Coast.  
  
A fucking country, left by God but perfect for people like him who wanted a new beginning with a new identity without past finding them too fast.  
  
That was why he started travelling through the forests and the mountain chain of the Rockies two years ago. Hunted minks, foxes, cormorants and sometimes a puma - so called mountain lion - and he could live off the money he got for the coats very well.  
  
But his past arrived by ship and followed the trail of rumours he accidentally spread like a bloodhound his prey.  
  
He has been wandering the mountains for six weeks, has checked his traps, arranged new ones and repaired the old ones.  
  
He could live with the things the forests gave him. Sometimes he met travellers who shared news of the world. The Southern states still refused to give up slavery. _Idiots._   
  
He made a big haul these weeks. Though he hoped to sell some coats of the young animals, because they were more profitable, only animals of two years and older got caught in his traps.  
  
But still it was okay, eventually the money he got he could use for new traps and other things to spend the summer. He wanted to move further, to the Canadian border. At first he had to get to the next town and earn his payoff.  
  
Granite Falls was only four day's marches away. With the coats it would take a bit longer but it was worth the money. So he decamped. Afterwards he would move on to Jordan Road.


	2. sanctificetur nomen tuum

## sanctificetur nomen tuum

### Hallowed be Thy name.

###  It had rained again. It had been raining almost every day since his departure. As if the sky was mourning that he left his place to look for what meant most to him. He remembered his arrival in Everett four months ago.  
  
When he left for this person he discovered that nothing had changed. He started roaring and sallied forth upcountry the next day. The sky abided by him and had been crying more tears than he saw in his homeland in Spain.  
  
Then he was there: Granite Falls. It lasted two hours to find a saloon which this person visited often. He checked in and paid more Dollars than usual to make sure the owner would keep his mouth shut, due to his arrival.  
  
After this, he explored the small town. It was cozy although you could even feel up here in the North the approach of the war and the fear and the strain. He found a church and entered it without timidity because in this holy building he was on familiar ground.  
  
A bald headed monk noticed him and came to him. "God bless you, son." He made the sign of a cross in front of the young man. "Be welcome in His sacred halls."  
  
He nodded and a blonde streak fell into his face as he looked around. "Thanks to you, friar. I am glad to walk under his eyes again." The monk retreated as he made clear that he wanted to pray alone.  
  
He took a hackneyed rosary made of marble pearls out of his coat pocket and placed himself in front of a bad copy of the Virgin Mary. "Forgive me for I am going to sin like you have been accused to do."  
  
Afterwards he prayed eight pearls of the rosary. He perceived the presence of the monk and was alerted of what might have passed the door. His only protection was the LeMat revolver. And that, in his opinion, was not enough. _Well..._  
  
Before he left he threw some loose cash into the offering bowl. Instantly, like he had expected, the monk appeared next to him and thanked him. "Tell me, friar, do you know something about a man who passes this town every now and then? He has dark hair and sells, as far as I know, coats. He's a loner, not very talkative."  
  
The older man thought for a moment and nodded. "Yes, I think I know about whom you are talking. The man you're looking for is a trapper and has been strolling through the forests around the town recently. He comes here regularly to pray. He is a godly lamb of my humble herd. But most of his time he spends in the saloon or the market."  
  
Blue eyes sparkled with surprise. _He goes to church, voluntarily?_ He remained calm. "Do you know something else, friar?" "Well, I have to say that he often gets into fights and duels. But until now he was always the winner."  
  
Now the blonde man showed his surprise. "Duels? Do good sword fighters exist here?" "Swords?" The monk gave him a blank look. "No, I've never seen anyone with swords here before. The duels take place with revolvers."  
  
His nose started tickling. Were they talking about the same person? "Could you tell me the name of the trapper? Maybe we've been talking about different people."  
  
The monk hesitated and a few extra coins found their way into the offering bowl. The old eyes sparkled. "Yes, maybe it would be good to know the name, unless we want to talk about different people. He calls himself Rona... a weird name, don't you think? He..."  
  
The monk wanted to continued, but he stopped him. _Rona...!? Why that name?_ "I thank you, friar. You helped a member of the fraternity a lot. God will watch you with mildness."  
  
Suddenly the eyes of the monk were filled with fear. "The fraternity? Sir, why haven't you told me?" An icy smile creped over the young lips and disappeared shortly after.  
  
"Because I travel incognito and want to stay unknown but it could be that I will need your help again that's why I decided to tell you who I am. Do you understand, friar?" The mink nodded eagerly, dread in his eyes.  
  
"My duty is important so I swear to God, the Almighty, that you will keep silent about me!" The bald head nodded again and the old man was shaking. He was scared.  
  
Members of the fraternity were spread over the known and the unknown world to carry out secret duties. It was said that they got their tasks from the Holy Father himself.  
  
And did everything for the fulfilment. Eventually, every sin had been forgiven before. The monk eyed up his vis-a-vis.  
  
A young man, tween, dressed like a noble merchant or teacher. Blonde hair framed the keen face and covered one of the blue eyes and that gave his whole appearance a mystic aura.  
  
He sure had been a _darling_ in his monastery. Religious eagerness sparkled in the eyes, the monk assumed.  
  
The young man nodded and disappeared towards the exit, not without letting a coin fall into the offering bowl, embossed with the seal of the Holy Father. Then the door was closes and the monk sit down on one of the hard wooden benches.  
  
"Oh God, what did my poor lamb do?" But in his thoughts he made preparations for a secret funeral. Because there was no doubt that Rona was going to die.


	3. adveniat regnum tuum

## adveniat regnum tuum

### Thy kingdom come

###  He had been able to make a good deal and earned a lot of money of selling the coats. Now he was walking to church, like he always did. Friar Christopherus was always awaiting him, with a candle, although the poor priest didn't know why he was praying.  
  
Today he took his candle again, made his tribute and walked over to his place. He sat down in front of the picture of Mary. _What?_ A candle was burning on the attachment. Not for too long. _Seems as if another sinner is in town._  
  
But this thought didn't matter to him. The fates of others never did. He had to stay alive, nothing more mattered. Far away from his past, fighting for his survival. He prayed and went into the saloon.  
  
But the second candle was still on his mind. Eventually it had been a herald. _Fuck! Stop it! That's over and the candle is just a coincidence!_ Arriving in the saloon, he sat down at the last free table as the landlord brought him the food, and ordered a brandy.  
  
Suddenly he noticed that something was so not alright. He could feel it, almost touch it. He continued eating slowly and glanced around his surrounding.  
  
Loggers, criminals, police men, farmer from hinterland, huntsmen, everyone was acting normal. Still he senses somebody watching him. This somebody was pretty damn good in not attracting attention.  
  
_Maybe someone at the bar? No._ He was face-to-face with the bar, that wasn't possible... _Who else?_ He forced himself to continue eating as if he didn't notice anything.  
  
Then he saw by chance that the landlord stole a peep at the gallery right above his table. _Damn it!_ Eventually he couldn't pull out his revolver and shoot at the gallery. He ended his meal, paid and left the saloon.  
  
Just being outside he could feel the looks on his back again. The moon was shining bright this night. He looked at the upper windows but couldn't see anything because the shadow was too dark to look through it.  
  
He made his way to his billet, cursing. Knowing just to well that eyes were following him. He would find out who it was. Until now he always defeated and killed everyone who dared to do this. And still, he was wishing for his swords at his belt and not these small pistols. He felt too helpless with them.  
  
Uneasy sleep visited him this night, dreaming of bygone happenings which were reflecting in the light of the candle, which stood underneath the picture of Mary. He saw people whom he killed; people who had helped him and every now and then the memory of a person appeared that stood in the dark, so he could only see its outlines.  
  
Nevertheless he knew who it was and saw a blonde streak, swept off the elegant face by a thin hand. He turned away from this picture, not being able to stand it any longer. This memory belonged to the things he left behind.  
  
At least he hoped it. In the dream he felt this person stepping out of the dark, closer to him. As rangy fingers touched his shoulder, he woke up and looked panicked around the room, trying to fight down the feelings.  
  
_That is over. I betrayed this person, just like it betrayed me!_ Anyhow, the shadow stayed. A shadow of these feelings which caused a lot of trouble. But he enjoyed them back then.  
  
The room, in which he was lying, was empty. No one was there. Only close to the back, at the cupboard next to the door, there was a mouse running around, looking for food. He felt watched again.  
  
The mouse was staring at him when it noticed he was awake. Maybe it tried to figure out whether to be scared or not. _Oh lord!_ He buried his head in his hands and sighed. _Why are you still following me, you damn bastard?_  
  
The mouse disappeared when he started moving. He was lying down again, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep. _Why can't I forget you?_ He turned to the other side and stared at a rat which was looking up to him from beneath the door.


	4. fiat voluntas tua sicut in caelo et in terra

## fiat voluntas tua sicut in caelo et in terra

### Thy will be done on Earth, as it is in heaven

###  At the first sight, he seemed to examine the candle next to his, lost in thoughts. To some church visitors it might have seemed as if he was praying. He didn't do anything of these. He was observing.  
  
The monk who desperately tried not to look too scared in his direction and the other people who came and went. They were normal people, dressed up straightforward. Merchants, craftsmen, huntsmen.  
  
He found himself thinking about a normal life. Though he wasn't be able to say if it was possible for him to live like that. He just existed because of the church.  
  
It owned his life. Had owned it. Until a certain person appeared and destroyed everything he believed in.  
  
He put a third candle on the board, spoke an Ave Maria and left the church or else the monk would have probably suffered from a heart attack. He was strolling through the streets of the small village.  
  
All of them were innocent; with smaller or greater sins the Father loved everyone because he created them that way. But He looked upon him with eyes full of anger, for he was a sinner whose sin could never be forgiven.  
  
When he was a little boy, he was found half starved in front of a Spanish monastery of the fraternity. They took care of him and instructed him with the teachings of the Church.  
  
Every little sin he committed had been punished and with even more cruelty he was reminded of it. Eventually he officially joined and got his first assignments. His very first assignment was to accompany an older friar.  
  
They have been wandering along Camino de Santiago and put some pilgrim preachers away who have been spreading bible interpretations which were a thorn in the flesh of the Roman Catholic Church.  
  
At that time he encountered Death and learned how to call him quickly and give him the souls of the sinners. At that time he was suffering from terrible nightmares.  
  
The friar couldn't take them away but told him this way to sin was alright and God would forgive them and only them so that the Christian belief could be spread.  
  
He had been young and way too inexperienced, so he believed these words and even believed that this was the only assignment that went this way. But the truth was that he was a murderer with a holy mission.  
  
All his tasks were bound to death. And eventually, after he made his peace with the murders, somebody stepped into his world of praying, repentance and murder and blew it up. This person showed him the other side of sins.  
  
Without even noticing it, his soul was owned by the devil. His world was left to die and the goddamn person left his life. All that happened three years ago. Now he was standing right there on the street and stared at the person who gave him everything and took away even more.  
  
_Good lord, you haven't changed at all._ They looked at each other, shocked, not wanting to admit they were acquaintances. Still it was obvious to everyone who would've looked closer.  
  
Only grass green and ocean blue eyes were staring at each other until a carriage interrupted their eye contact for a few seconds. As the blues had clear sight again, the other one had disappeared.


	5. panem nostrum supersubstantialem da nobis hodie

## panem nostrum supersubstantialem da nobis hodie

### Give us today our daily bread

###  After this awful night he was having a more terrible morning. His landlord kicked him out because he destroyed some furniture pieces.   
  
Now he was sitting in the saloon and was eating. He was nervous and overcautious.   
  
But nobody was watching him, except for the landlord who once had to displace the tables he destroyed during a riot.   
  
He took a bottle of cheap booze with him and strolled through the city without a goal.   
  
He wanted to stay at least two more days until he finished all his errands.   
  
So he looked for an accommodation where he could leave his things.   
  
A black shoemaker offered him one. He paid a 50 cent rent and left, heading to the market.   
  
He needed wrought leather laces that wouldn't break so fast in this wet air.   
  
Furthermore he wanted to sell some nicely drawn ermine coats for more money than the coats yesterday to tanners and tailors. Women loved these rarities.   
  
His unpleasant mood disappeared, there were 10 Dollars in his pocket. He was content, that was a appropriate payoff for his work.   
  
He could pay almost everything that he needed to pull up the stakes as well.   
  
He looked into the sky, it was appearing in a different kind of blue today. A blue that seemed to get darker the longer one looked at it.   
  
Dark, like the sight of dull passion in... _Oh damnit, that's only imagination._ But as he lowered his gaze, he was still staring into that deep blue that was about to swallow him and never let him go again.   
  
_No..._ He felt the panic rushing. But he couldn't take his eyes away from these blues, no matter how hard he tried.   
  
Nothing happend till a carriage met his look and he ran away. _Oh God, it's only imagination..._   
  
He was running back to his room and packed his things up. He would buy the missing things on farms.   
  
Now he had to go! A last gaze into his pannier, counting the packs, his swords being stored in a seperate bag. Done! Away!   
  
He took his things and left the town as quickly as possible. Now everything made sense.   
  
The candle beneath the picture, the feeling of being watched, his dreams, everything. But how did he find him?   
  
Was his trail so easy to follow? He tried to leave no evidence behind. He even found a new name!   
  
_Really? A new name, funny! At least he was calling you that way. And you idiot of a swordfighter wanted to forget that? Has done everything to hide and then making acquaintances with this name? How stupid can one guy be? You wanted to be found!_   
  
He had reached a busy street and disappeared between the salesmen and citizens. Nobody could discover him in this teeming crowd.   
  
However, this complicated the observation of the surroundings. And everytime he saw a blonde head, he hid again.   
  
_I have to get outta here, quickly!_


	6. et dimitte nobis debita nostra

## et dimitte nobis debita nostra

### And forgive us our trespasses

###  He knew that the other one has left the town. He knew right in the moment when they lost sight of each other.  
  
Now all he had to do was to catch up with him. He returned to church. The horizon announced thunderstorm clouds.  
  
He collected his belongings after a last prayer in church and hit the road. The monk has told him that his target person was on the way to Canada.  
  
This eased the manhunt. He would follow him, somehow there would a possibility to do so.  
  
Soon after he left town towards Jordan Road, it started to rain. It didn't matter to him.  
  
Unless he moved on fast, he wouldn't have a chance to close on with the other one.  
  
He probably had only a few hours of lead over him. But the blonde man knew that this was enough to put thousands of miles between them.  
  
The rain awoke memories. Memories of times he wanted to forget. But on the other hand he wanted them back. He called him a name only he was allowed to use.  
  
They understood each other. Maybe it was some kind of congeniality of souls, he didn't really know. He knew that he felt alright when he was with the darked haired man.  
  
This one had worked in the steelworks as a day labourer and from time to time got his wage through delivering dangerous packages.  
  
They've met in honky-tonks around the Thames. Swallowed down drinks and talked. It didn't matter about what.  
  
Only that he never told the truth to the dark haired man. He knitted a web of lies around their friendship.  
  
No one was allowed to know the truth. After all, he had been in London to fulfill an assignment...


	7. sicut et nos dimisimus debitoribus nostris

## sicut et nos dimisimus debitoribus nostris

### As we forgive those who trespass against us

###  It rained cats and dogs. For more than three days now. He stumped through the mud, farther to the North, on an unhitched street.   
  
At the mountainside he spotted a post station. He would pass the night there and leave the next morning before sunrise.   
  
The horses in the barn were slightly restive. Who knew why? Maybe a predator wasn't too far away...   
  
He was happy to get out of the rain as he entered the main building of the station.   
  
The lamps were dull and didn't really fill the room with lots of light, murmured words were heard.   
  
A man in an uniform came to him, asking what he would want.   
  
He answered, put down his baggage and sat down on the floor next to the fireplace. It was damn cold out there.   
  
As he opened his eyes again, it had darkened completely. Most of the lamps were dead.   
  
But something wasn't right. He felt like deer in front of a puma's nose. But he couldn't tell where the feeling of danger was coming from.   
  
Outside of the house? In the same room? He looked around without moving too much. The dull shine of the lamps poorly enlightened the wooden floor boards.   
  
Silhouettes of other people were nothing but shadows. Everything was calm. Slowly he shifted his weight to take another position.   
  
One hand reached for the bag with the swords. _Damnit, bastard, where are you?_   
  
There was a movement in front of the window. Suddenly his attention was focused on the noises and motions of the other side of the wall.   
  
_I have to get outta here._ He took his swords and left the building as quiet as possible.   
  
The rain had stopped. Somewhere water was dropping from roofs in a puddle or a barrel.   
  
The wind was blowing in the trees. He fit into the shadows. He was a hunter, he knew the game of darkness and silence.   
  
He was looking for the shape that had caused the movement at the window. He dived into the shades of the main building, his hair covered by a black bandana, and so was his presence.   
  
Then again...! From the corner of his eyes he saw the shape again. It moved very fast.   
  
Too fast for a normal person. But he knew that no normal person was hunting him.   
  
As he reached the edge of the building, he hesitated. There was a young tree in front of him whose branches played with the wind and caused the shadows to fall through one of the windows of the main building.   
  
_Have I been wrong?_ But what about the feeling of being watched?   
  
"Stir once and you're dead." Cold metal met his throat. He tightened the grip around his swords.   
  
"Don't even think about it." The voice was cold as ice. But the breath at his throat was hot. _Damn!_ Slowly, he lowered the swords. _Calm down. Wait._   
  
"Drop them."   
  
He did as he was told. The other one moved closer.


	8. et ne nos inducas in tentationem

## et ne nos inducas in tentationem

### And lead us not into temptation

###  'Helpless' was the first word that came to his mind, as he put the blade against the throat of the dark haired man.   
  
The swords fell down with a dull noise onto the wet ground. He moved closer.   
  
For the thousandth time he studied the part of the neck where it met the shoulder.   
  
If he was right, the skin was smooth and damageable there.   
  
The blade rested where it was. He leant forward and licked the skin of him.   
  
The other one trembled, causing the blade to dig into his throat. The blood ran down the tanned skin, hid under the dark shirt.   
  
But no sound left the lips which he...   
  
"Turn around!"   
  
The blade followed the slow movements until ice blue eyes met green ones.   
  
Anger, helplessness and somewhere deep inside a spark of longing.   
  
They have been seperated for so long. Arrogance and knowledge mirrored in the blue ones.   
  
The knowledge that the situation was under his control.   
  
And somewhere there was the passion which he had tried to forget.   
  
"Rona..." A little smirk on the lips of the blonde man. "Why that name?   
  
The gaze of the dark haired man froze. Like a murderer, the blonde thought.   
  
But maybe murderer was the wrong term for the man in front of him. Betrayed and outcast described it better.   
  
However, the gaze was the same and always deadly.   
  
He watched the lips open and close again. Then they became a thin line, no sound emerged.   
  
The blonde man grinned again.   
  
"We're gonna leave. Take your stuff and meet me at the barn. Don't think of escaping. I'll catch you anyway."   
  
He lowered the dagger and waited. No one moved.   
  
The moon drew the scene with cool, silver light. Made the other man desirable.   
  
Then, the dark haired man turned around to get his baggage.   
  
He did the same, taking the swords with him.


	9. sed libera nos a malo

## sed libera nos a malo

### But deliver us from evil

###  He waited, waited for a moment of carelessness of the other man. He had to escape. There was no other way than this.  
  
They rode for hours and hours. When rain started falling, they took shelter in caves or other post stations on the way. Whichever way they took. He didn't know where to the blond man wanted to lead him, but he knew they were heading west.  
  
Maybe the coast? _What is he planning on doing there?_ And some more questions of this kind circled in his head.  
  
At dusk they stopped. The blond man started setting up the camp. The sky was clear, so it wouldn't be raining tonight.  
  
He helped arranging the tent and dug a little hole for the fire. Meanwhile the blond man went to gather some dry wood.  
  
He stood after he finished the work and strolled along the grassland where the horses browsed. _Now._ He reached for the bonds that tied the forelegs of his horse together.  
  
When they were loose, he reached for the reins.  
  
"Stop right there!" He froze. _Shit._ A thud was heard, when some branches fell on the ground. "Step back from the horse. Turn around." He grinned. "You like to have the upper hand, right?"  
  
"Shut up!" He moved slowly and looked straight in the barrel of a LeMat Revolver. "Hey, don't like jokes?" The blond man shot him a death glare. "Move!" He made a sign with his free hand, pointing at the tent.  
  
About an hour later he nearly gave up on escaping this night. The other one was to damn alert. Around midnight they went to sleep.  
  
It wasn't long and the blond man was sound asleep. But he couldn't, no, he didn't want to sleep. His thoughts travelled back, to a time; that seemed to be thousands of years away.  
  
_He smelled fish and trash, alcohol and other things, he didn't want to know what it was. The streets that led to the harbour of London were dirty, wherever you looked. He didn't mind._  
  
_He was a day labourer. Working for different companies, he had enough money to survive._  
  
_But sometimes, he wasn't a day labourer. Then he was someone else. Someone to be feared. There was a fight club. Some underground thing. He didn't care. But he loved to fight. Weapons were allowed, so he fought with swords._  
  
_At the fight club, there were many different people. He watched most of them fight. But knew he could win. One day was different. A newbie was there. Thin body, nearly no muscles, smoking like some industry chimney. Blond hair hiding one of his crystal blue eyes._  
  
_He had to fight that guy._  
  
_Weeks passed. They became friends. The blond man wasn't working at one of the steelworks. He didn't know what his work was and he didn't care. They met at the fight club. And they fought. Many times. And none of them won even once._  
  
_Again some time passed. They met in bars or taverns. Most of the time, the blond man paid the debts._  
  
_And then a time started that was filled with hidden desire._  
  
_He never had sexual thoughts of other men. But this one was something entirely different._  
  
He turned to the other side, facing the wall of the tent, casting away the memories. He didn't want them, couldn't use then right now. The blond man next to him sighed and moved a little in his sleep.  
  
_Stop thinking!_ He shouted to himself. He definitely had to stop thinking that way.  
  
A soft moan from the other went right down his body. _Gods, what is he dreaming? Stay calm. Ignore him. Stay calm and ignore him._


	10. quia tuum est regnum et potestas et gloria in aeterna

## quia tuum est regnum et potestas et gloria in aeterna

### For Thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory forever

###  _Hands slipping past his waistband. Teasingly touching his sensitive skin. He couldn't stop the moan. This was so delicious, so incredibly sinful._   
  
_He loved it. He moaned again as soft lips followed the hands. Down his throat, along his collarbone and then traveling a wet path to his navel, dipping in, making him gasp, wanting more._   
  
_Along the way he noticed some digit entering him, he didn't care. He just didn't want this feeling to stop. Something so incredible, it felt unreal like it would vanish every time soon._   
  
_The other one began to suck and tease him. He hissed and moaned uncontrollably. "N…never…never stop… oh god!" But God would be the last one to look at him now._   
  
_His only response was more speed and he started humming._   
  
"Don't…. stop!" He sat straight in his blankets, needing some time to notice where exactly he was. In a tent. A tent? – Rona! He looked around to find the space beside him empty.   
  
_No…_ He let out a frustrated moan and rested his head in his hands. He was such a dumbass. Why now? They had almost reached the coast. And the other one was gone.   
  
Slowly he made his way out of the tent. There it was. Only one horse left. The other two gone.   
  
He cursed himself under his breath. _Stupid monk. What have you ffound him for, when all you do is lose him again?_ It took him the whole day to strike camp. Everything he had wished for was gone.   
  
And it was his fault.   
  
He continued on his way to the coast. There was nothing more to do in this godforsaken land. He would return to spain and resign from the fraternity. He could not do this anymore.   
  
The next day it startet raining again. He travelt with the rain all along his way to the coast. A trip of one and a half week. His thoughts were everywhere but on the path he should follow.   
  
When he arived in a town, he just took the cheapest room. The bed would allways be untouched. He couldn't sleep.   
  
And because he lacked sleep, he did not nitice the man that followed him.   
  
A dark haired one, with a scar under his left eye and pitchblack hair. Always a small smirk at the corner of his mouth, but not a friendly one.


	11. amen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it is done. This is the last chapter of my story: E Nomine Patres Et Filii Et Spiritus Sancti. I realy hope that you enjoyed reading it. And I hope some of you will comment this last chapter.

## amen

### Amen

###  The ships departure was in two days. So he stayed in the saloon drinking or in his little chamber not being able to sleep.   
  
The loss he made again brought back all the memories and passion he had kept behind a thick wall.   
  
His attire was dirty and nothing indicated that he was more than a mere wanderer.   
  
The rosary stuck in one of his pockets, not noticed.   
  
He didn't notice the time flowing by. His mind was busy torturing him with what he had lost again.   
  
Then the sun rose on the day of departure. He took his little package with him and went to the port.   
  
Everyone were occupied with something at the pier. He went past couples that kissed the last time for a long while, workers that loaded the last food and baggage on deck.   
  
He had reserved a small cabin, he apportioned with three other men. He left his luggage there and went back on deck.   
  
The blue eyes where cheerless as he watched the scenery before him.   
  
A stronge breeze blew and the captain and petty officer where shouting orders so the ship could use the wind for departure.   
  
A small action caught the attention of the young blond man. A dark haired one stood on some barrles watching him. Three swords were tied at his waist. They looked at each other.   
  
The moment lastet for an eternity.   
  
A pitchblack haired one apeared behind the darkhaired swordsman. And time stood still.   
  
A soundless cry ran through the blonds throat as he saw a dagger stabbing the one he loved more than anything.  
  
Nobody noticed the man falling down from the barrles. Dead.   
  
The pitchblack haired one waved at the blonde, a silver cross twinkling at his wrist and a grotesque smirk on his face.   
  
The blond didn't perceive how the ship set sail and began to move. Slowly out of the harbor. His gaze was frozen to the place where Rona stood just a few moments ago.   
  
He remaind on deck, his gaze dulled, starring into nothingness.   
  
The ship reached the open sea. Some sea gulls still accompanying the travelers, waiting for food.   
  
Dawn passed by and a full moon rose up in the sky. Nobody on ship dared to bother the blond man, that stood at the rail watching the sea.   
  
The next morning a blood red sunrise announced the new day.   
  
The young, blond man with these sky blue eyes was gone.   
  
The End   
  
By phantomschmerz 2007-2012


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